Author: M G Kizzia

Medieval 5: K and Y 11 Troubles Come in Threes, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie got up one morning and felt anxious all over. She felt afraid she might get some bad news, but she could not think of what it might be. Hilda recovered well. The Witcher Women were happy. None of the elderly in the village were near dying. The world, or at least her part of it was at peace. The farm was in good hands. The sun was shining. Still, Kirstie felt anxious. Something or someone reminded her that trouble came in threes.

Kirstie countered that thought. “Kare is annoying and obnoxious, but he is no trouble. And everything worked out fine for Hilda.” Someone internally said third time is the charm, a word that someone else immediately contradicted with three strikes and you’re out. Kirstie did not have to wait long. She sensed the oncoming dwarfs before they arrived.

Kirstie went outside and glanced at Fiona who was in the cooking area, talking to Yrsa. Yrsa looked up, but Kirstie waved her hand in a way to say stay there and maybe keep Fiona busy. The dwarfs came through the woods and in his way, the dwarf chief Booturn started right up.

“So, we got the word through the trade lanes,” Booturn said before he even stopped moving. “There is a hag in the place they are calling Normandy because so many Northmen have settled there. Some have gone there from Danelaw and Northumbria since the Anglo-Saxons keep pressuring the Danes. Abraxas must have sent the hag with one of those Danelaw groups. The hag is in a village on the sea called Fiscannum. We don’t know if she has already invited Abraxas to come to the continent or not, but it won’t be long before that happens.”

“Damn,” Kirstie said before she jumped. She was so anxious to hear the news, she did not pay close attention to who Booturn brought with him. Her eyes shot to the cooking area. Most of the dwarfs naturally went there first, being attracted to the food. She saw Vortesvin, the big ugly mountain troll there, but saw Fiona talking to the beast with a smile on her face. That was not what she expected. In fact, Fiona talked to the troll and ignored the dwarfs except to make sure they did not snitch any of the roast she was cooking.

“I belong to the Lady Kirstie,” she said.

“So do I,” Vortesvin answered and appeared to smile for her. Wonder of wonders, Fiona did not appear repulsed by the smile.

“I would not say you are one of her little ones,” Fiona said. “More like a big one if you ask me.” she reached out with her good hand and touched the monster on his upper arm which was about the size of her younger son.

“Yes, mum,” Vortesvin agreed. “But you are missing part of your arm, I see.”

“Yes, I am, and my name is Fiona.” Fiona said.

“I’m Vortesvin,” the troll said and reached out to gently touch Fiona’s arm.

Fiona kept her elbow covered so as not to offend. She watched the troll touch the spot and explained. “It got taken by an axe, and a man burned it in the fire until it stopped bleeding. It hurt something awful.”

“May I see it?” Vortesvin asked kindly.

Fiona nodded and unwrapped the cloth she kept tied around it and warned the troll. “It is terribly ugly to look at. About like you.” Fiona smiled. Kirstie saw it once, and that was enough. She nearly threw up.

“Lor, but that looks mean. It must have hurt badly.”

Fiona nodded, and Kirstie turned her eyes back to Booturn since she did not need to intervene around the cooking fire. “Normandy,” she said, and Booturn nodded. “Good thing you are here. The elves and fairies in the woods have been a great help around here, and I am sure you don’t want them to get all the credit and say they are better than the dwarfs.”

Booturn frowned. “What do you want?”

“Two things,” Kirstie said. “First, I want you to make a cup to fit on the end of Fiona’s arm. It should cover the ugly area but be made so she can take it off or put it on as she will.”

“A cup?”

“Like the cup that was made for Father Tyr of the one hand after the wolf Fenrus bit off his hand, but it doesn’t have to be gold or jeweled. Not lead, but Iron maybe, strong.” Kirstie said.

Booturn looked up at the mention of the god Tyr, like he forgot she was counted among the gods of old. He quickly removed his hat and listened closely. “With fingers?” he asked.

“Not long and heavy. Just a cup. But it might have a hook, or maybe two.” She showed with her two fingers. “But blunt, not sharp. Something so she can pick up a pot or hold things in place while she cuts the meat. You know.”

Booturn nodded.

“I have seen your blacksmith shop in the village,” Booturn protested “That is some poor excuse for a furnace.”

Kirstie widened her eyes. She was not aware he had been to the village until he mentioned it. But now she knew that he and several others went to see what sort of weapons the humans were preparing for the battle at the king’s house. Nothing untoward happened so Kirstie was not needed to intervene at that time, so no need for her to know about it. But still… “Maybe you need to go and help Svend build a better furnace. He is a nice man, though. I don’t want you to scare him.”

“I might look again,” Booturn said in a noncommittal way. “What is the other thing?

“I need to borrow your wife for a few seasons. Maybe a few years if she does not mind.”

Booturn slowly smiled at the prospect of being like a bachelor for a few years. Kirstie could practically see the wheels turning in that warped dwarf mind. “I should ask what for.” he said.

“She is a seamstress but works with a loom and needle without a bunch of magic. The local elf ladies have been very kind to keep me, Fiona, and the boys clothed, but I want someone who can work with plain linen and knows how to card and spin wool, now that we have some sheep, and make things, more human things.”

“Human things?” Booturn raised his voice. “She would be insulted by that… but I know what you mean.”

Kirstie thought to explain. “With just one hand, Fiona has a hard time threading the needle and working the loom. Fiona is a good cook, and she can butcher the meat and pluck a chicken just fine, though the boys help. But she needs help with some of the more two handed and delicate tasks. I was thinking Birdie could help, and maybe share a few recipes.” She named Booturn’s wife and Booturn twisted his hat a little as he again remembered that Kirstie was his goddess. He got serious.

“I can see the cup with the fingers will need to be strong and attach in a way that will keep it in place.”

“Yes, please,” Kirstie said, and looked again toward the cooking fire. She saw the troll lean down and Fiona planted a kiss on the troll’s cheek. Wonder of wonders, she swore the troll turned red with embarrassment, but Fiona moved on.

Alm and the boys came around the corner of the barn and Fiona called to him. “Alm. We need to find something to feed our visitors. They must be hungry after their long trip down the mountain.”

The boys stared without the wow, as had become their way, but Alm threw his fists to his hips and gave the dwarfs a stern look. “A troll and a pocket full of dwarfs. They could eat everything on the farm and still be hungry.” The dwarfs nodded and smiled in agreement. Alm smiled for Yrsa as she came to stand beside him. She gave him a peck on the lips. He said, “If Yrsa and the boys fetch their bows and arrows, and maybe if Bucket and Toodles came with us, we might find something in the forest that we could shoot and eat.” Clearly, Alm knew these dwarfs, or some of them anyway.

The boys shouted and raced to get their things. Yrsa already had hers handy. She kept it in her elf slip, a small, invisible pocket not entirely in this world that only she could access. All the same, she chased the boys to make sure they did not break anything in their excitement.

Kirstie imagined Yrsa would make a great mom. She felt glad that everything seemed to be working out so well. She watched as Fiona turned again to Vortesvin. “You are a troll?”

“Mostly.” Vortesvin said and looked down at the ground for fear of how she might react. “My mother was some ogre. They say I got her nose.”

Kirstie watched Fiona return to her cooking and almost smile. “I don’t mind,” Fiona said, and Kirstie thought she better not eavesdrop anymore.

“Booturn,” Kirstie said and glanced at the sky. “We need to go to the village center before it gets any later. I need to introduce you to Svend the blacksmith. Bring Buckles and Tiny. We will see if he is willing to let you help him and maybe teach him a few things about working in metals.”

It turned out Svend had been praying for just this thing. Apparently, he caught sight of the dwarfs when they checked out his shop several years earlier. His apprentice and two workers were wary and not entirely happy, but Kirstie understood that was mostly because the dwarfs were strangers and not necessarily because they were dwarfs.

Booturn explained to Svend about the cup they needed to make. Svend had met Fiona, the whole village had by then, and they found her to be a kind and good person. Svend thought a cup would be a wonderful idea.

Buckles spoke right to task. “We will need to line the cup with fairy weave, much as I hate depending on the elves for the cloth.”

“Fairy weave?” Svend asked.

“Made by the elves of the wood. It has magical properties,” Booturn told him, and Kirstie thought he deserved a better explanation.

“It does not stain, always stays fresh and clean, and it absorbs sweat and will push the moisture out, so it always stays dry. It will keep her arm warm in the winter and cool in the summer, so the cup will not be a burden.

“Not iron though,” Tiny said and pulled on his beard. “We don’t want it to rust up in a few years.”

“Need a better furnace for real steel,” Buckles agreed. “One that can get really hot.”

“Hot as hell,” Tiny agreed and Kirstie explained again, though Svend was not a Christian to exactly understand.

“That is just an expression. He isn’t literally talking about hell.” Svend imagined Hella’s place for the dead, but he accepted the expression as just that. Kirstie turned to Booturn. “I need to find a ride to Normandy. I am sure you will work things out equitably.” She turned back to Svend. “If the dwarfs give you any trouble, just let me know when I get back. And don’t let them eat all your food. They are always hungry, so if you feed them… Well, just don’t let them eat you out of house and home.” She turned back to Booturn. “Make sure you take good care of Fiona and the boys. I’ll want my farm to be there and prospering when I get back.”

“Don’t you worry,” Booturn spoke loudly, “We will take care of everything while you are gone.”

Kirstie mumbled softly as she walked away. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 11 Troubles Come in Threes, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Fiona, Oswald, and Edwin fit right in. Of course, the elves of the wood would continue to help out around the farm for several years, until the boys got big enough and learned enough to take over. Alm and Yrsa took the boys hunting from time to time, and they, along with Mariwood and Buttercup, became good friends with Fiona, so everything seemed well. Then the dwarfs came, and everything fell apart.

The trouble started when Harrold came home with a shipload of gold, silver, and jewels. He raided a town on the southeast coast of Wessex, or maybe in Cornwall with a friend of his from Steinker, the big town at the far north end of the fjord. The man’s name was Captain Ulf, which Kirstie immediately translated to the English Wolf. The name fit what she heard. They attacked a monastery, killed all the monks, and then attacked the town. They burned the church to the ground. They stole everything, and Kare was proud about that. Thoren, not so much.

“I almost have enough money to build my own longship,” Kare said proudly. “And I have good sailing experience now, too. One more raid like that and I should be set.”

“Most of the men at least share the bounty with their families,” Kirstie pointed out.

Kare shrugged her off. “My parents have enough. They get along just fine without needing any of my money.”

Kirstie shook her head, sadly. He did not get it, but she was thinking Kare’s mother had seven children. Kare was the eldest, and the woman was working herself to an early grave keeping the other six clothed and fed. Kare’s father was a nice enough man, but he was not much of a hunter or fisherman, either one, and his fields were not the best soil being full of rocks. “You could help out at home,” she said and watched her words go in one of Kare’s ears and out the other. He already moved on in his mind.

“I killed a man too,” he reported, like he was now even with Kirstie. He showed no remorse. To be sure, Kirstie was not entirely shocked by his attitude. For young men, given the culture they lived in, killing an enemy was almost a rite of passage. It said he was a man worthy of respect.

“I understand,” Kirstie said. “But you are not supposed to be happy about killing.”

Kare thought a second. “But how else would we get the silver and all. They were not just going to give it to us.”

“Trade works,” she said. “Trade is an option. Try trading something worth the silver.”

“Not a chance,” Kare responded, shook his head, and smiled at her. “I don’t have any amber or ivory lying around, or fairy picked honey to trade.” Obviously, Kare did his homework. Kirstie wondered which member of her crew talked, not that it was supposed to be a secret.

Kare reached out and took Kirstie by the shoulders. “I’ll share my silver with you when we get married.” He was going to kiss her, but she got her hands up and stopped him.

“I’m not old enough yet. I’m only fifteen. And it would help if you acted like love was not a foreign word to you.”

Kare let her go, but he protested. “I have wanted you since you were a child.” That was maybe as close as he ever got to expressing any sort of love.

“I am still a child as far as you are concerned.” Kirstie almost raised her voice. It was true that some married when they were as young as fifteen, but normally it was in the sixteen to eighteen range and tended toward eighteen. “You have to wait until I am of age.”

“Kirstie.” They heard a voice. Hilda was in the marketplace and waved. She looked about ready to burst.

“I have to go,” Kirstie said.

Kare looked angry, but he held it in. It was a look Kirstie would become very familiar with. He turned to his companion. “Come on, Thoren,” he said, and they stomped off. Kirstie hurried to her friend.

The second trouble, naturally, was the birth of Hilda’s baby. The baby was turned around and Mother Vrya tried everything she could think of to get the baby to turn, but to no avail. Inga and Kirstie showed up to hear the screaming. Inga could not think of what to do, but Mother Vrya did not hesitate to ask.

“Could Mother Greta do something, or maybe your Doctor Mishka?”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows but asked internally. Greta said she could not do any more than Mother Vrya already did. Doctor Mishka said she would look, but no promises. Kirstie reported what the good doctor said. “No promises,” and she went away so Doctor Mishka could come to her time and place. The doctor raised her hand and her bag appeared. She pulled out a stethoscope and began the examination. It did not take long.

“The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby. Troels, get out, and take your friends with you.” Mishka looked around the room and got masks out of her bag. Mother Vrya and Inga both got masks. “Inga, please get the cauldron and put plain water in it. Put the baby cloths in to boil them clean. No soap. Then come right back here, I will need you to assist.” Mishka made Hilda drink some potion that would hopefully put her to sleep without killing her.

“A sleep potion?” Mother Vrya asked as Mishka exposed Hilda’s belly and puffed up the linens on both sides to catch the blood and whatever dripped. She got out a needle and checked what she had in her bag. “Here,” she handed Mother Vrya and jar. “Spread some of this ointment there.” Mother Vrya did as instructed; and a moment later reported that her fingers felt numb. Misha gave a groggy Hilda a shot and spoke again. “Your fingers should be fine in a minute. The shot is the important thing, a combined anesthetic and antibiotic. It would work better in her spine, but I don’t dare. Believe it or not, this is not the filthiest and most primitive conditions I have worked in.”

Hilda tried to speak. “Are you commenting on my housekeeping?”

“Close your eyes and sleep,” Mishka insisted.

“But it is still hurting.”

Mother Vrya went to stand close to Hilda’s head. “She is still having contractions.”

Mishka nodded and handed Mother Vrya a cloth. “Cover her eyes and hold her head still as you did before.”

“Ooh,” Hilda mouthed the word to indicate her pain was more than she made with the sound. The potion was working, but they still had to wait a minute for the anesthetic to kick in.

Inga came back in, and Mishka laid out her things on the table she dragged to the bedside. “Scalpel. Clamps. Sponge. Gauze. Thread.”

“I remember,” Inga said. They had to surgically remove some of the arrows on the battlefield. Performing an emergency C-section would be more complicated, especially with a wrapped umbilical, but they would do their best.

Mother Vrya gasped when Doctor Mishka cut into the patient’s perfectly healthy flesh. Hilda tried to say, “What is it?” but she mostly mumbled, half-asleep at least, and she could not move her hands to remove the cloth from her eyes so she could see.

Hilda eventually slept, and Doctor Mishka instructed Inga about post operative care while Mother Vrya swaddled the baby in the boiled-not-entirely-clean cloths. When Mother Vrya fetched the cloths, Troels came in all worried. They pulled up a chair for him to sit by his wife, and he mentioned, “Revna sent word that her water broke, whatever that means.”

Mishka and Inga both looked at Mother Vrya, but Mother Vrya waved off their concern. “It is her third and she goes long.” Mother Vrya took her time, and when she left, she said she would let them know if she needed their help.

“Your son,” Inga handed the baby carefully to Troels. “Do you have a name picked out?”

“Erik,” he said and smiled at the baby. “Erik Troelsson.”

“A fine name,” Mishka said.

“Harrold is going out again,” Troels said. “I am going with him in place of the crew he lost in his adventure.”

Mishka had a bad feeling about what the young man said. It turned out, he got to hold his baby before he got lost at sea. Then again, that meant Kare would be going to sea again, and inside, Kirstie felt some relief.

Kirstie turned sixteen and thought about Kare as little as possible. She did know that Revna had a girl, Astrid, and Kirstie wondered if Erik and Astrid might end up together, being birth mates and all. Some people went for that.

Medieval 5: K and Y 10 Home Again, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie turned to Fiona and the boys and said, “Your home is there near the barn. The boys can roll out of bed in the morning and get straight to work. The kitchen fire is the bricked in area there, between the houses. There is a brick oven and everything. The fences they are still building.” A couple of workmen stood around by the barn. One waved. “That is where the sheep will go. The pigs are there. The cows on the other side. And there are chickens in the barn. Also, the fields are mostly over there, and by my house there is a garden. The boys are welcome to pull the weeds.”

“It all looks lovely,” Fiona said. “I’ll just get the boys settled and get right on the cooking fire. We won’t disappoint you, Lady, but if it is all the same, respectfully, I would rather you finish what you were saying before we move in.” Of course, once the conversation started, Kirstie and Inga forgot to whisper, and Fiona could not help hearing the whole thing. Kirstie did not mind. She answered Inga.

“There are some special lifetimes I mentioned in the past that I can call on to take me to the place I need to go, like Nameless, or Danna, the Celtic mother goddess. But my main job, if you will, is to keep history on track. I can’t imagine anything more dangerous to history than letting a bunch of wild sprites loose on the world. I am supposed to make things come out the way they are written, and I get reborn in the place where the trouble is most likely to change the future unless I can prevent it.”

“How do you know the way things are supposed to come out?” Fiona asked, and added, “Begging your pardon.”

“I have future lives,” Kirstie said. Fiona did not really understand, but Inga nodded. She had seen Elgar and Mother Greta with her own eyes. They came from the past, but Inga saw no reason why Kirstie could not borrow a life from the future in the same way. Then she remembered Doctor Mishka. Kirstie thought to clarify if she could. “My many lives are not entirely isolated from one another. Of course, nothing happens exactly the way it eventually gets written down, but the gist and general thrust of history is clear. And it is equally clear when something threatens that, like Abraxas and his hags attempting to gain him worshipers and followers so he can return to the continent and mess up everything. Eventually, I will have to sail off again.”

“I will still worry about you,” Inga said.

Kirstie hugged the woman but turned to Fiona. “There are elves of the light that live in the woods nearby. There are dwarfs in the mountain there.” She pointed. “But they keep mostly to themselves. And there is a whole fairy troop in a glen not far from here. One or more of them might show up at my front door at almost any time.”

“I saw a fairy once,” Fiona said. “If you have a cow that is giving, we can leave a bowl of milk out for them as an offering.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Kirstie said. “If they want some milk, they know they only need to ask, and I would be glad to give it to them.”

Fiona looked uncertain. She always tried to placate the spirits lest they do her some mischief. Inga encouraged the woman. “As my fairy friend Buttercup explained to me, Kirstie is their goddess. They would not dare do anything that might make Kirstie angry at them.”

“If you say,” Fiona curtseyed a little to Inga. She turned to Kirstie and curtsied again. “Lady.” Kirstie saw this one-handed woman, this thrall, had more grace in her moves than Kirstie managed. She vowed to practice her curtsey.

Kirstie had a thought. Right there, she called to her regular clothes and let her armor and weapons return to the place they came from. Fiona looked surprised, and her eyes got big, but she said nothing. Oswald behind her said, “Wow,” And Edwin nodded in agreement, but Kirstie needed to verbalize her thought.

“My friend Hilda is as fully human as they come, and she has no contact with the little spirits on the earth. She does not even know about them. She is married to Troels, and she is six months pregnant. She could use the help since her mother and father are not rich and very busy on their own farm. I would be happy if you stayed here and helped me manage this place. I imagine I will be sailing off on another trading expedition in the near future, and I would like someone I can trust, and boys not afraid of work, to keep this place in good order while I am gone. But I understand having little ones about can be unsettling. If you want to stay, that would be great. But if you would rather, I can arrange to set you up in town where Hilda lives, and you can work for her. I would not mind if you chose to do that.”

Fiona did not hesitate. “If it is all the same, I think working this lovely farm would be fine. The boys and I have never had a home of our own.”

Kirstie nodded, but thought the woman needed another chance to decide, so she called Buttercup. Of course, Mariwood appeared with her since they were holding hands. It took a second before Mariwood bowed to Kirstie and Buttercup curtseyed most gracefully in mid-air. It took just long enough for Oswald to say “Wow” even louder than before, and this time Edwin echoed the “Wow”.

“Lady,” Mariwood spoke for the both of them.

“Mariwood and Buttercup,” Kirstie said. “Allow me to introduce Fiona from Northumbria and her two sons Oswald and Edwin. They may be living here to help me with the farm.”

Mariwood and Buttercup turned to the woman, keeping well out of the reach of the boy’s hands, and they repeated the bow and curtsy one more time.

“A pleasure,” Mariwood said.

“Lady,” Buttercup repeated, and Fiona smiled at being referred to as a lady, but she never blinked.

“I hope I may stay,” Fiona said.

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Buttercup said, and Kirstie took that as a good sign. Fairies were very intuitive about who to trust and who should not be trusted.

Fiona appeared to blink and said, “I saw a fairy once in my place by the manor on the river Aire not far from where it joins the Ouse. Perhaps you know him?”

“I am sorry, Ms. Fiona,” Mariwood said, thinking about it. “That is a long way from here and I cannot say to whom you may be referring.”

Buttercup also spoke. “I can think of only one man right now. Mariwood is my heart. I have a very small heart, you know.”

“What about your friend, Inga?” Kirstie said. “She has been missing you.”

Buttercup spun around to face Inga. She hovered, looked down, and turned her toe in the air like a little girl might turn her toe in the dirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It is all right, little one,” Inga said. “I am glad you are happy.”

Buttercup let out her most radiant smile. “I am happy,” she said and flew up to hug Inga, or at least she hugged Inga’s nose, one cheek, and an ear. It was as far around Inga’s face as her little arms could stretch.

“Mariwood and Buttercup.” Fiona tried the names on her tongue. “They seem very nice.”

“Most people are nice if you give them a chance,” Kirstie said, and invited Fiona and the boys to see their new home.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie remembers that trouble comes in threes. Then Kirstie and Yasmina both discover it is time to go. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 10 Home Again, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Inga and Hilda met Kirstie at the dock and Kirstie introduced her thralls and explained while Fiona collected their few things for the walk to Kirstie’s house. “They were taken in Northumbria. They were already serfs or slaves to the manor there, so being brought to Olvishaugr in the Skaun did not change their status much. Fiona lost her husband, Aidan, when the Vanlil came. She also lost her left arm from the elbow down. The man said it was a wonder she survived. The boys are Oswald, ten, and Edwin, eight. They are a bit young to do much, but they will grow. The man said he could not afford to feed them for nothing and keep them until the boys got big enough to be useful. They did not cost much. I figure the boys can learn to keep the sheep out of the grain and pull weeds from the garden, and the mother cooks so I don’t have to.”

“I hope it works,” Inga said.

“Speaking of cooking,” Hilda said with a grin and a pat on her enlarged belly. “I need to go home. I can’t walk that far anymore.” She hugged Kirstie and walked off, Inga and Kirstie staring. Kirstie said it.

“The girl waddles like a duck and she is just six months along.”

Inga chose not to comment, though she did whisper when they were on their way to Kirstie’s house. “Have you considered what to do when certain people show up on your doorstep? I mean, you get plenty of strange visitors.”

“We already talked about that. Fiona is used to having little ones around. She calls them the wee ones, or the good people. She says she even saw one once. We should be all right as long as Vortesvin the troll doesn’t show up.”

Inga rolled her eyes before she laughed. “Leave it to you to be friends with a troll.”

“A big ugly one, too. He has some ogre blood. But he is a nice fellow beneath that rock hard exterior, and he even seems to have a brain.”

“You sound like you like him,” Inga said, surprised until she put it together in her mind. “He is one of yours.”

Kirstie nodded. “All the trolls. I am responsible for all the sprites of the air, fire, water, and the earth. That includes all the elves, light and dark, and the dwarfs in between. Trolls are in there somewhere.”

“Giants?” Inga asked.

“No.” Kirstie shook her head. “In fact, even among the little ones, the little spirits of the earth, there are far more than the few I am responsible for. I have no responsibility for any lesser spirits or greater spirits, and certainly not for any flesh and blood people like giants or mermaids. I have no say over the swan people, or seal people, or any such people.

“Just the sprites,” Inga confirmed in her mind, although “sprites” was a generic enough term where it did not honestly explain who was included and who was not. “How do you know which ones are yours?”

“I know,” Kirstie said with finality. She thought for a moment while they walked and then tried to explain a bit more. “I have thought about this for a long time. I think in the beginning, the gods decided they could more or less watch over the lesser and greater spirits. Mostly those spirits did their work and there was not much interaction with the gods, or with people for that matter. Oh, the gods might call up a hurricane, or turn one away, but generally, the spirits did their jobs and that was fine.”

“Okay,” Inga said, to show she was listening even if she did not exactly understand.

Kirstie backed up the story a little bit to speak of an earlier time. “All of the universe is alive in one way or another. It is constantly changing. Gravity, electro-magnetism, time all bring changes.” Kirstie stopped and waved off the questions that might bring. “At some point, some five thousand four hundred years ago, there was a tower built to the glory of man. The Most High God scattered the people at that time and confused the languages so like today, different people speak different languages, and we cannot understand each other easily.”

Kirstie looked and Inga nodded slightly. “Well, at that time, the gods were given the job of watching over the human race, to test and try the souls of the people to see if they were fit for heaven or hell. The gods could encourage, support, strengthen or weaken, guide, defend, or withdraw their protection as they saw fit. They were not allowed to decide how things should turn out, but they laid the foundation for morality and natural law and showed that in this world there is a greater power than the human self, and that power will one day hold all people accountable for their lives so no one would have an excuse. But in their work, the gods noticed that certain little spirits worked close to the humans and risked interfering with the work and the development of humanity. They were mostly the little ones that were able to take on a form of flesh and blood, even to appear human, though they are not.”

“Like Yrsa,” Inga understood. “She looks human enough, but I have seen behind the glamour she wears and know she is not really human at all.”

Kirstie nodded this time. “The gods wanted to give the responsibility to someone to watch over them and keep them to their tasks, and most importantly, to prevent them from interfering with humanity. They were reluctant to put that much power into the hands of one of their own because for one thing, that person would have to be able to travel around the world as needed. They would have to have access to the lands of Aesgard and the lands of the Celts, the Africans, the Romans, the eastern lands… The sprites move with the winds, the seeds, and the waves, you know, and are not tied down to only here or only there.”

“But you are tied down to this place,” Inga said and held up her own hand this time to say what she thought she understood. “You have lived many lives in the past and will continue to live into the future. I get that. But in this life, and at least most of them you are just a plain, ordinary human and nothing special.”

“Thanks,” Kirstie interrupted. “I’m just an average nobody,” she said in a goofy voice.

Inga smiled, but she knew that Kirstie knew what she was saying, so Inga continued. “In any case, you are not a god like the gods. You may be immortal after a fashion, but you die time and again and are reborn somewhere else on the earth.”

“And very disturbing it is when that happens,” Kirstie said.

Inga nodded. She could imagine. “So, the gods give you the little ones they want to watch over, because you are not tied to one place on the earth, and not being an actual god, you are no threat to them.”

“Basically,” Kirstie nodded.

“But you are tied down to this place for as long as you live your life. What if there is trouble in Egypt? That is a long way from here and I doubt Rune Stenson would be willing to sail that far.”

Kirstie stopped walking. They had reached her farm, and she had servants to get settled.

Medieval 5: K and Y 10 Home Again, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

As soon as they arrived at the house, Yrsa ran off to the woods, presumably to see her father. She came back a week later with an elf named Alm and declared that she was married. At the same time, Mariwood and Buttercup never seemed to be apart, and never came around when Kirstie might need them. Kirstie sighed and first thought she might like to have a boyfriend, but not Kare. Certainly not that jerk.

The elves of the wood took good care of her home while she was away. They brought in the harvest and sold most of it, using Inga as an intermediary. They kept the pigs. Her sow had a litter of six while she was away, and Kirstie swore the piglets ate everything they could reach. Kirstie looked at her pregnant friend Hilda and said Hilda was getting fat like her pig. Hilda probably put on a bit too much weight, but Hilda just smiled and chewed.

The elves of the wood also took care of her three cows. One calved shortly after she got home, and that was good. The cow provided plenty of milk which the elves turned mostly into cheese to preserve it. Kirstie had no complaints, but at the same time, she understood that it was not fair to depend on the elves of the woods. That was a great kindness to her, but that was not their job. She needed to live in her human village and work out her own place in her human world, and the elves needed to do their own work in the spiritual world.

Inga came to visit often enough, and she generally got her hair braided when she visited. “Otherwise, my hair tends to frizz and stick out in every direction it can,” she complained before she added. “Although, having it wild and frizzy works for Buttercup, if I should see the fairy again.”

Kirstie nodded to things, generally. “Mine is thick and stays straight with no curl at all.” They started toward the village. Kirstie had an errand and dressed in her armor, though the weapons were not so prevalent, and she asked, “Why is it women always want the kind of hair that they don’t have?”

“Women want everything that they don’t have,” Inga said and smiled. “So, you are a woman now?”

Kirstie nodded. “Close enough at fifteen.”

Inga smiled. “I still see you as the wild child I used to chase around the village, trying to keep you out of trouble.”

Kirstie kept on nodding. “I’m still wild. And still growing.” She wanted to complain. “I’m fifteen but already tall for a woman, taller than some men.”

“Maybe you will get as tall as Kare. Then, as you say, you can tell him to stuff it.”

Kirstie grinned before she frowned. “I had a nightmare about him. But what about you? You must be twenty-one or two. Isn’t there anyone you are interested in? You are pretty enough. I am sure any man in the village would be glad to have you to wife.”

Inga looked at Kirstie and shook her head softly. “Mother Vrya keeps me very busy. Besides, I will have to be there when Hilda has her baby.”

“I’m worried about her eating so much,” Kirstie said. “She does not have to put on so much weight. She will never get it off again.”

Inga agreed. “I have talked to her about that, but she says she is eating because she is so happy. It makes her happy.”

“There is an excuse if I ever heard one,” Kirstie responded. “Women eat because they are happy, and they eat because they are sad. I would guess the only time women will stop eating might be if they stopped feeling anything at all.”

“That will never happen,” Inga said.

“Never happen,” Kirstie agreed.

They walked toward the docks and Inga asked a question. “So, what is this journey you are taking? The spring has arrived. Shouldn’t you be worried about getting your fields planted?”

Kirstie shook her head. “My sheep are due to arrive and my friends in the woods have agreed to watch them, but that is really asking too much of them. Rune, Frode, and my friend Thorsten all said they would send men to get the fields planted, but I need to make a better arrangement. The men I hired are building a two-room servant’s home. They have expanded the pig pen to accommodate all the piglets for when they grow, and turned old Bjorn the Bear’s sleeping quarters into a real chicken coop. They are also building two large fenced in areas beside the barn. on either side, one for the sheep and one for the cows. I hope this trip will find something more permanent so when the word comes, and I have to sail off, I can know my home will be cared for.”

“You will be sailing again?”

“It is only a matter of time. I don’t expect Abraxas to give up.”

They stopped by the docks. “I worry about you, you know.”

“Feeling all motherly?” Kirstie smiled.

“No. Yes. But I worry about these hags as you describe them. I saw the body of Chief Birger after the King’s house. A bear could not have done a better job of ripping the poor man to shreds.” Inga looked around and lowered her voice. “Buttercup explained to me how you are a goddess to the spirits of the earth. I understood better when you went away, and Elgar came from the past to stand in your place. Elgar lived in the past, did he not?” Kirstie nodded, so she continued. “But I do not like the idea of you fighting one of the gods. That thought frightens me to no end.”

Kirstie kept the smile, though it was perhaps not so pointed. “Especially since in this life I am just an ordinary human.”

Inga almost smiled herself. “Graced and empowered by Njord and Fryer, and who knows who else.”

“No one else at this time. The gods have all gone over to the other side, and this Abraxas needs to join them. He has been given two chances. First, the Nameless god threw him out of all the lands of Aesgard. And second, the gods agreed. Junior Amun threw him out of the Middle East and from the ancient lands of Karnak and Luxor in Egypt and North Africa. Amphitrite, queen of the seas threw him out of her waters, including the Atlantic and every sea connected to the ocean, and as the last Olympian, she threw him out of the lands of Olympus. Danna, the mother goddess of the Celts threw him off the continent, so he only has the big islands in the west for his home. He must stop interfering with the natural course and development of the human race, and he is supposed to find the courage to give up this life and go over to the other side. He is not supposed to be trying to find ways to come here or come back to the continent. He should not be making hags to do his dirty work.”

“He must die?” Inga tried to understand.

Kirstie nodded. She did not mind telling the volve in training. “It is like dying. He must let go of his flesh and blood and return to being the pure spirit he actually is.”

Inga shook her head, so Kirstie explained as well as she could.

“A pure spirit has no eyes to see nor ears to hear. It has no hands to touch the earth. The sun still shines. The wind still blows, but the gods no longer have the ability to see or feel what they are doing. They are directed now by the Most High God, the source of all.” Kirstie pulled out her little cross and held it tightly in her hand. “Maybe God will be gracious to help me find the help I need.”

Inga could nod for that. “Good luck,” she said, and Kirstie hugged her motherly friend and climbed aboard the Red Herring, a karve ready to sail north into the fjord. The next day, the Red Herring returned with nails and other goods for the village, and Kirstie returned with Fiona, a woman in her mid-thirties, and her two sons named after the saints in Northumbria, Oswald and Edwin.

Medieval 5: K and Y 9 Hiccups, part 3 of 3

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Kirstie

When they returned to Strindlos, Kirstie told Mariwood to vacate the sack of grain he had lived in for the past month while they made their way home. He made a hole in the sack where he could slip out to exercise his wings flying around the outside of the ship beneath the rail so he could stay hidden from the crew. Some crew members swore they saw something flying around from time to time, but they all assumed it was a seabird of some sort and Kirstie did not tell them otherwise. Of course, she knew he was there, but she did not bother him. Yrsa also knew he was there and slipped him a bit of fish or herring now and then when the crew ate. Yrsa did not need a full man’s portion, and Mariwood was small enough not to need much at all. It worked out.

“How did you know?” Mariwood asked, and then corrected himself. “Of course, you knew.” Kirstie just nodded and let him come to her shoulder where he could hide in her hair while they went ashore.

Inga stood on the dock waiting for her, Buttercup hiding in Inga’s hair. Surprisingly, Hilda also stood there beside a young man. Hilda knew nothing about the fairies and elves, but she was Kirstie’s old friend, her best friend, and Kirstie felt curious. Hilda was sixteen, and Kirstie imagined she wanted to introduce her boyfriend. She found out differently. Hilda married the nineteen-year-old Troels, and the girl was already pregnant.

“Married?” Kirstie shouted and hugged the girl. Kirstie was nearly fifteen, but she could not imagine herself getting married. No one but Kare showed any interest, and he was not an option in her mind. She imagined she did not have time for a boyfriend, though she also admitted the Vanlil invasion and her part in it may have scared off some of the boys. Her proclaiming herself a shield maiden and sailing off with a shipload of men did not help either. Though she also wondered if maybe Kare threatened others to stay away. That would not have surprised her. He did have some sway over the fifteen to twenty-five age group of young men. That was not necessarily a good thing for those young men.

“You must come and see our home,” Hilda said with a smile for her husband.

“I will. I promise,” Kirstie said. “But first I have to go to the big house for the dividing of the loot, and then I need to check my own house. You cannot imagine how tired I am. How about tomorrow morning? I can come for a visit tomorrow, and we can spend the whole day if you don’t mind shopping a bit. It could be just like the old days, you know, sweet sausages and all.”

“She likes to shop,” Troels said about Hilda in a noncommittal way.

Hilda looked a bit disappointed that Kirstie did not want to run and see her house right away, but she really did understand. They hugged, and Hilda took her husband off before Kirstie turned to Inga and whispered. “Married?”

Inga shrugged. “It is in the air,” she said, and as they began to walk, she added, “Buttercup wants to know who your friend is.”

“Mariwood. He came all the way from the Frisian shore,” Kirstie said. “I made the mistake of mentioning Buttercup and he said she sounded nice, and he would like to meet her,”

Inga nodded slightly so she would not knock the fairy off her shoulder. “It is in the air,” she said without explanation.

When it came to dividing up the loot, Captain Stenson said Kirstie deserved the lion’s share since it was her honey, ivory, and amber that made them rich. Kirstie insisted that she get her fair share, like any other crew member, and no more. Yrsa also got a share which she later gave to Kirstie because she said elves did not use coins or care about such things.

First, after they all marched to the big house, Captain Stenson offered a share to Chief Kerga on behalf of the village. He also set aside four shares for the four families who lost men in the battle of Bremerhaven. Finally, Captain Stenson took a share for his ship, which he paid for out of his own pocket. The rest got evenly divided under the watchful eye of the village elders. They had four pieces of silver left over at the end and gave one to Kirstie. Captain Stenson kept one and gave one to Frode.

“And the last one,” he said, and handed it to Inga. “For the Witcher Women. A contribution.”

“Here,” Kirstie said. “You can have my extra too.” She handed it to Inga and looked at Frode. Frode handed over his extra without a word, and they all looked at Captain Stenson. He gave them all a hard stare before he raised his eyebrows and sighed, an expression that became all too familiar around Kirstie. He handed Inga his extra and declared the division of the goods to be over, though it was not exactly over.

Most of the men left the big house, happy, even as Mother Vrya came in, followed by several strangers. A few men stuck around to pay Captain Stenson for the plows and farm implements they got in Frisia. Captain Stenson felt it only fair to give Kirstie another ten pieces of silver, since it was her amber, but Kirstie had another thing in mind. She divided her ten pieces in half and gave five to Frode and the other five back to Captain Stenson. “This is payment for a dozen sheep from each of you, and they better be good breeding stock, not just the old and the lame.”

Frode looked at her and could not resist asking, “So what do you have in mind for the rest of your money?”

Kirstie paused before she answered. “I need to hire a couple of men,” she said, and changed it to something understandable in her culture. “I need to buy a couple of thralls. I’m thinking there is no telling what condition my house and property are in right now since I have been away. I am going to need some help I can depend on to keep the land when I go off on the next voyage.”

“You plan to sail again?” Inga asked, though she did not really sound surprised.

Kirstie looked at Inga and glanced at Mother Vrya. “It is inevitable.”

Mother Vrya nodded, stood between the strangers and Kirstie, and turned to introduce Engel Bronson, the king’s representative, to Chief Kerga. The others with him were Bieger, Lind, and Gruden. Engel started right in.

“Since talking to you, we have spoken with the men of Varnes, Oglo, and on the Frosta Peninsula. All have said they gathered here in this meeting house, and Elgar the Saxon came here to draw up the plans to defeat the exiles and their allies.”

Kerga nodded. “We are the closest to Hladir, the king’s house, and the Nid River. We attacked the enemy from here.”

“Yet you say you do not even know where he came from.”

“I do not recall, exactly,” Kerga said, and tried hard not to look at Kirstie who stood with Inga beside Mother Vrya. Yrsa stood behind the others.

“Wessex,” Mother Vrya spoke up. “From the big island in the west. That was where he said he was from.”

Lind quickly spoke to the women. “There was a girl as well, a young blonde. She and Elgar were never seen together at the same time.”

“The child,” Mother Vrya nodded. “She traveled with Elgar. She was just a young child.”

“Her name?” Lind asked, demanding an answer. “Did she have a name?”

Kirstie interrupted and lied a bit. “Her Christian name was Katherine, why?” Everyone stopped to look at Kirstie who wore her armor with all her weapons. They glanced at Inga and Yrsa, what they could see of her, but Kirstie clearly stood out, dressed as she was, like one ready for battle. Engel Bronson stepped forward with another question.

“Several women went with the army, did they not?”

“I went with the army, with one of the Witcher Women,” Mother Vrya said. “We cared for the young child and healed what men we could. When men fight there is always so much blood.” The king’s men nodded, but Engle kept staring at Kirstie until she spoke.

“Don’t look at me. I went to fight. I am the daughter of Arne Carlson, the Navigator. Perhaps you heard of him? He died in Normandy, but you see, the sea is in my blood. In fact, I just returned from guiding my ship to the Frisian shore. We had a successful journey.” She lifted her bag of coins and rattled it. “And, yes,” she added. “I killed a man.”

“Do you remember the girl?”

“Katherine?” Kirstie appeared to think. “I remember Chief Birger and Captain Kerga here. I remember my captain Rune Stenson and Frode, his skipari. I remember being scared. It was my first battle. I’m not scared anymore.” Kirstie smiled and said, “Come on Yrsa. Let’s go home.” And they left the big house.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie need to build her home to have a home, and she needs to get help around the house for when she hears of another hag and has to go away again. Until then…

 

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 9 Hiccups, part 2 of 3

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Kirstie

Kirstie said, “Wait.” and put her hand up and called. “Mariwood.” The fairy came with a half dozen others. Aldean was the fairy negotiator, and after asking and receiving permission, he settled down on Frode’s shoulder. Kirstie tapped her shoulder for Mariwood while she turned on Aldean. “Sir Waldo is a friend. We are not here to beggar him. A reasonable exchange for the amber is fine, and North Sea prices, not what the amber is worth in Rome.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Kirstie turned to Count Duko. “Do you see? My king of a thousand ships and ten thousand men would know in a heartbeat what is happening on this distant shore. But as long as we can work things out fairly, I see no reason to send him word. I expect you will have no trouble selling our goods in the south. You will probably become rich, fat, and lazy.”

The count smiled, a crooked smile. “That is my hope.” He offered a slight bow.

Kirstie nodded. “Just so we understand each other.” She turned to Mariwood. “Would you mind sending your crew to the ship to fetch the remaining amber? Captain Stenson and Sir Waldo will need to look at it, and I am sure Count Duko will want to drool over it as well. If the crew gives you any trouble, tell Thorsten I sent you.”

“Yes, Lady,” Mariwood sounded like Aldean.

Some good deals were made that day, Count Duko got his amber at a reasonably small price in silver and Sir Waldo felt gregarious. He feasted all forty crew members, though in two shifts so half could stay aboard the ship in case Count Duko’s men decided to see if there was any more amber, ivory, or other precious items on board. Kirstie hugged Sir Waldo again before they left, thinking she may have made a friend, and he hugged her right back.

Yasmina

Yasmina was fourteen before she talked her mother into letting her go to the marketplace by herself. Of course, by herself meant having a bevy of young servant girls walk along behind the litter, and al-Rahim, Ahmed and a half-dozen guards surrounding the whole group. The guards mostly stayed back and watched, but still… Mother spent almost an hour just making sure Yasmina was properly dressed, heavy veil and all. Fortunately, it was a veil Yasmina, and Aisha could take down in the litter so they could breathe. They temporarily dropped it a couple of times in the market as well and hoped no one would tell on them.

With Aisha by her side, Yasmina led the procession of girls to the things she wanted to look at. Sadly, it meant having to put up with the prattle.

“Princess, look at this silk.”

“That yellow is the loveliest color.”

“Princess, that is a beautiful dress.”

“Look, these flowers are fresh picked.”

Aisha ignored the girls. She wore fairy weave which she could shape, color, and freshen with a thought. The material even repelled dirt so it always looked clean. As an elf, she did not honestly want anything the human world had to offer. It was mostly a time to share with Yasmina and hopefully keep her out of trouble.

Yasmina wondered what the girls might think or do if she went into the blacksmith shop to look at weapons.

Aisha and Yasmina eventually got to the jewelers in the open-air market. One old man in his booth had trinkets within reach. He kept the real and expensive items behind him on something like a pegboard that backed up almost to the wall. The center piece was a pendant. The stone looked orange, polished, and it was surrounded by red chips in a gold setting. Yasmina lowered her veil for a minute so she could breathe and figure out what she was looking at.

“Princess,” the old man said, knowing who she was. He turned his face away and put his hand up so he might not look at her.

Yasmina felt miffed. “I’m not that hard to look at.”

“Oh, no,” the old man said. “You are as beautiful as I have heard. More beautiful, but it is unseemly that a poor man such as I should see your radiant countenance with my eyes.”

Yasmina huffed and pointed. “I wish to see that pendant, the one with the orange stone in the center.” Yasmina put her veil back in place as the man smiled and turned all the way to reach for the piece.

“This is the most rare of all stones, and most expensive because of it. The stone is called amber, and it is surrounded with rubies.”

“Chips,” Aisha said. “Red emeralds.”

“Sort of all in the family for you,” Yasmina said and smiled at Aisha.

Even as the old man reached for the piece, an arm came over the board from behind and a hand grabbed the pendant. Somehow, a skinny young man squeezed between the pegboard and the wall.

The old man shouted. Two of the girls shouted. Someone yelled, “Thief,” as the young man squirted out from the back. Aisha had whipped her bow from her slip and had an arrow ready before the young man could take three steps. She fired and pinned the young man’s shirt to the wall, even as Ahmed and the guards moved to intercept him. Al-Rahim came straight to his princess as Yasmina walked the few feet to the thief where he was grabbed by the guard before he could set himself free from the arrow. She put her hand out.

The young man sheepishly put the pendant in her outstretched hand. She looked in the young man’s eyes and shook her head. “We are not playing out that story. Let him go,” she ordered. The guards looked at al-Rahim and he nodded, so they let him go. “If you are hungry, the food is in that direction,” Yasmina pointed.

The young man said nothing. He looked at al-Rahim and ran off.

She asked the jeweler how much. He gave her a price and she only bargained a little because she really wanted it.

“Lady,” Aisha said. “We did not bring enough money with us.”

“Father will make up the difference,” she responded while she slipped the gold chain around her neck so the pendant could hang between her young breasts. “One thing about being neglected by your father is he feels guilty. He gives me things to make himself feel better, like jewels and horses.” She turned on al-Rahim. “I want a real horse.” Al-Rahim said nothing.

When Yasmina and Aisha got back in the litter, they immediately lowered their veils and Yasmina couched her pendant. “Now I feel as if I have a piece of Kirstie with me,” she said. “She just got back from a real adventure.” Yasmina smiled for a moment before she turned a teary-eyes face toward her companion. “She had to kill a man,” Yasmina said and began to cry. Aisha, being an empathetic elf cried with her.

Medieval 5: K and Y 9 Hiccups, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

After Bremerhaven, the crew treated Kirstie like one of their own. On the way to the Weser, they were not sure how to treat her, and by extension, Yrsa. These women felt like intruders on their male bonding. They were not treated badly, knowing what Kirstie had done at the king’s house, but they did not treat her well, except the three young men who wanted to get to know Yrsa better. Kirstie was fourteen and still skinny. Yrsa looked eighteen and beautiful. Fortunately, for Kirstie, Yrsa was not interested in any of the men. That was a complication Kirstie did not need, and to that end, she only had to threaten one of the young men once.

On the way back down the Weser, Kirstie told some jokes she gathered from Giovanni, a life she had not even lived yet. They were jokes Giovanni taught Leonora, the harlequin in his circus. A couple of them were bawdy enough to embarrass Yrsa, but the men liked them.

Captain Stenson and Frode spent the day they took to sail back down the river counting all the silver they got in Bremerhaven. The guild masters had to get together and pool their money. With the fairy Aldean on Frode’s shoulder, the guilds did not have enough for all the amber, but they got a fair share of it along with all the ivory, honey and wax, furs, and leather. Only the grain remained unsold, and a bit of the amber.

At the mouth of the river, they found the same fishing boats turned out to block their way. Kirstie felt miffed at first before she thought to say, “I wonder what he wants.” Yrsa and Kirstie dressed in their dresses and waited for the longboat to be lowered. This time, there appeared to be a delegation on the shore, complete with some tents and real looking soldiers. Captain Stenson steered the longboat directly there.

When they landed, Kirstie got out of the boat and shouted, “Where’s Waldo?” She confessed to Yrsa, “I always wanted to say that, but Genevieve did it first.” Yrsa frowned, not exactly knowing what Kirstie was talking about. Kirstie just figured out that Sir Waldo showed the piece of amber to someone who knew its actually worth, and he could not let them go without seeing if they had any more.

One man on the shore looked better dressed than the soldiers around him. He stepped forward and talked to Captain Stenson and Frode by introducing himself. “I am Count Duko come from the king’s court in Utrecht. It has come to my attention that you have obtained some amber. I would like you to consider a trade if such may be arranged.” He looked back at his soldiers as if to suggest they better agree to give up the amber, one way or another, or he might just take it.

Captain Stenson put on his shrewd face, which was not very shrewd. “We only have a little left, but I think something may be arranged. Where is Sir Waldo? He seemed a reasonable fellow.”

The count shook his head. “This is the king’s business.”

Kirstie heard from Mariwood and the local elf king that they were present and available if they should be needed. Despite the implied threat of the count, she hoped they would not be needed.

“I am sure something equitable can be arranged,” Captain Stenson said.

Frode interrupted this time. “How fortunate. Since the Lady Kristina may represent the King of Norway in certain matters, having come home from the king’s house not that long ago. It is fortunate to be able to speak with a representative of the King of Frisia. Perhaps you two can share notes on the disposition of various kings.” Frode wrapped up the lies in his friendliest smile, and Yrsa, being an elf, translated the lies with a perfectly serious and unflinching face.

Kirstie played along with a kind smile and a slight curtsey, which she imagined she did a bit better than the last time. “Harald Fairhair, my king of a thousand ships and ten thousand men at arms sends greetings to the King of Frisia in the hopes that we may establish an equitable relationship for mutual benefit.”

Count Duko hesitated. He had not expected this, but he did not hesitate for long. “But your king is far away and not able to know what transpires on a foreign shore. Yours is a trade mission, not a diplomatic one.”

“A simple ruse to see if our two peoples may share in fair economic benefit for both of our peoples. Who, but the king would have access to such precious commodities as amber and ivory? Alas, we only have a small bit of amber to test the waters, so to speak, but we might be willing to fairly trade it for some of the things we need. We have resources to make us rich, but we lack some of the common commodities that make life better.”

“This is nonsense,” Count Duko decided.

“I perceive that you have no light saber,” Kirstie whispered as a handful of men rode up to the shore and dismounted right away to march to the meeting. Kirstie scooted past Count Duko, Yrsa following, and Kirstie hugged the big man. “Sir Waldo. I found you. I was beginning to be afraid you would leave me in the hands of the wretched Count Duko.” She let go and took Sir Waldo’s arm, and he patted her hand like a doting grandfather.

“Waldo. The king will have the amber these people carry, and it is none of your business,” Count Duko spoke sternly.

“This is my business,” Sir Waldo shot right back. “This is my land by the king’s decree. I am here to defend the sea and the river delta against all who would disrupt the peace. You have no right to come to my land and interfere with legitimate merchants and trading ships that I have allowed to proceed.”

The count steamed, but before he could erupt, Kirstie spoke.

“We would be glad to trade what little amber we have left if Sir Waldo is able to procure from his people the things we seek. Then I imagine Sir Waldo might sell the amber to the king to recoup his expenses and maybe a bit extra for his trouble, and it would still be far below what the amber may be worth in some markets. I am sure the lords of Lotharingie, Austrasie, Alemagne, and Burgogne would pay handsomely for the rare jewels since they have no access to northern ports to buy it directly. What say you, Sir Waldo.”

Count Duko looked at the man. Indeed, everyone looked at the man who appeared to be thinking. “What is it you seek?” Eyes turned to Kirstie who felt glad Count Duko did not outright object like a man who maybe wanted the amber for practically nothing.

Kirstie pointed to her people. “Captain Stenson, a fine captain, and his number one Frode are shepherds back home. Their families are well known for the fine wool they produce. We had some carded wool from the captain and his skipari among the furs and leather we brought, but that went to the people of Bremerhaven.” She pointed out to the ship. “As you can see, we have plenty of lumber to build fine sea faring ships. And you see the crew? They can fight like berserkers when they must, but do not be fooled by their appearance. The secret of the Norsemen is they are mostly just farmers and fishermen as well. What we would like is some quality plows and farm implements, some good quality tools, and the like such as farmers and fishermen need and use. That should not be a problem for you, though we would like to get a fair number of things for the amber we have left. We may bargain some, but we wish to make a fair deal so we may come again knowing we have an honest trading partner. I cannot say how much more amber we may be able to bring on a future visit, but you never know.”

Kirstie took a breath and looked at Count Duko. Clearly, he had not considered the idea that this might be more than a one-time event. If Waldo could get the amber for the price of some farm implements, and if he could buy it all at a modest price and sell it at a high price as the girl suggested, he could become rich, legitimately, and not have to kill anyone to do it.

Sir Waldo smiled as he thought about it. He said a couple of good plows and tools would not be a problem. Captain Stenson and Frode also smiled. It was what they mostly wanted, and it would save them the silver it would cost in the Danish or Norwegian trading centers to purchase the same things.

“I am sure something equitable can be arranged,” Captain Stenson repeated himself.

Medieval 5: K and Y 8 The Saxon Hag, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“But wait…” Captain Otto started to object but got interrupted when a half dozen fairies flew up in front of him. They immediately got big and bowed to the girl.

“Lady,” the head fairy said, and Yrsa still translated for Otto and his men. “The hag is on the road bringing forty families and forty more men to Bremerhaven. I suspect they will attack the town to take control. I have no doubt they intend to invite Abraxas to cross over the channel and come to the continent.”

Kirstie paused and flipped to a totally different subject. “You look familiar,” she said to the fairy. “Why is that?”

The fairy smiled. “My father was Maywood and my mother Marigold, if you remember them.”

Kirstie smiled more as if to say she remembered. That was back in the days of Margueritte, and Genevieve. She stopped smiling when the fairy’s words penetrated. She called to her armor and weapons, and that shut everyone’s mouths. She quickly picked ten of the crew and told them to stay and guard the treasure,

“But wait…” Captain Otto said the words again, but he did not appear to know what else to say.

Kirstie grabbed the man’s hand. “Christian Otto. You better come and bring your twenty soldiers. The rest of you men follow me.” The men were typical Vikings, not inclined to listen to any woman other than their wife or mother, though they might give Mother Vrya and the Witcher Women a hearing. Kirstie, however, they knew in a different way. They followed her in the battle against the Vanlil, and they were dramatically reminded of just how special she was when the fairies came and bowed to her.

“Mariwood.” She named the fairy. “Please lead the way.” The fairy bowed again, got small with his companions, and flew in front. After a short way, Kirstie tapped her shoulder and Mariwood gladly came to rest there and ride where he could whisper the directions in her ear.

“I can tell you have done this before,” Mariwood said. “I would have thought you were still too young, no offence.” he pulled a little on her hair to get comfortable.

“Buttercup stays mostly with my friend Inga, but she rides on my shoulder sometimes.”

Mariwood thought for a minute before he added. “Buttercup sounds nice.”

“I don’t know,” Kirstie said. “She is what some call a frost fairy. It gets pretty cold where I live.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Mariwood said and got silent for a time to think about it. They had gotten to the Bremen Road that the hag and her people were coming up, so there were no more directions to give. It was just as well because Captain Otto finally had some questions he thought to ask.

“Are you a Valkyrie?”

Kirstie thought before she answered. “No. I’m a Shield Maiden. That is a female warrior among my people. Apart from that, I am a Christian as I confessed, and you should be the same. The old gods have gone away, and the new way has come. Do not doubt that. The hag we go to face, the servant of Abraxas who calls himself a god, is a terrible creature that has a whole town of people enchanted under her evil spell. Any doubt or confusion on your part and she will attack your mind.” Kirstie took a deep breath and said softly, “Although the Valkyrie used to work for me in the old days, or rather, they worked for themselves. I’m just the one who got blamed when they screwed up.” She remembered one time in particular before she quickly threw her hand over Yrsa’s mouth, so she did not translate that last part about the Valkyrie.

In a short way, they ran into the hag and her followers. The numbers were about even, and though the old lady hag looked surprised that the Vikings and townspeople appeared to be working together. Even so, much like the hag in Norway, this old lady hag anticipated their arrival. Her men came out from the trees and bushes and Kirstie’s and Captain Otto’s men barely had time to defend themselves.

Kirstie managed to get her shield to the front in time to block a spear. She stepped forward, making the long spear useless and swung her battleaxe, practically taking the man’s head off. Yrsa shot the man to her left. Mariwood got down and got big to stab the man to her right. It seemed they were ganging up on her position, but her Vikings pushed forward and pushed the enemy back, while Captain Otto and his soldiers kept the men away from her flank.

Kirstie, who stood by the river, had a moment to focus on the hag. Apparently, Kirstie noticed she picked up some elves during her march through town. The hag, reverted to a big, hairy monster, had taken several elf arrows. The arrows stuck, not being made by men. Yrsa managed a perfect shot in the hag’s eye. but while the hag roared from the pain, it pulled the arrows out, including the one from her eye, and she healed over. She instantly grew a new eye once the arrow was removed.

Kirstie did not know what to do. The road ran along the river, but the hag stayed on the far edge of the road, far away from the water. Someone shot a flaming arrow. It got followed by several flaming arrows, and like the last time, the hag roared in delight. It grew bigger as it became covered in flames, and it looked far stronger as its roar deepened. Kirstie panicked. She felt sure no convenient ogre would tackle the hag and shove the hag into the river.

She thought of Njord. It should be enough. Grandfather Njord said it would be enough, but before she could do anything, the burning, monstrous hag rushed to attack her. Kirstie screamed and backed up, only to trip over a rock by the river and fall on her backside. The hag was not so lucky as she reached her claws out to rip Kirstie to shreds, only to paw at the air. Kirstie proved to be a stumbling block. The hag’s forward motion caused it to trip over Kirstie and arms flailing, land smack in the river. Kirstie heard the hag yell.

“No. Abraxas, help me.” Then came the scream, and the hag quickly reverted to the old woman and melted to a puddle on the surface of the slow-moving water.

Captain Otto and his soldiers stopped fighting first when the enemy turned away, went to their knees, threw down their weapons, held their heads and moaned. Not to their credit, Kirstie’s Viking shipmates stopped last and killed a few of the enemy even when they were in no position to fight back.

The women and children under control of the hag that kept back during the fighting came up weeping. The men also wept. Kirstie thought it best to shout and Yrsa also shouted the translation. “Shipmates, back to the ship. Help the wounded.” She yelled at seven men to stay with her to help clean up the battlefield. and to the rest to remind them that they have a treasure to guard until we can sell it. “Captain Otto, sorry to leave you with the surviving men, women, and children. You can practice some Christian compassion. Remember, they were enchanted and could not help themselves. You might also find some converts among them.”

Kirstie stopped suddenly when she realized she killed a man. It all happened so fast. She just responded. It was reflex, like Bjorn the Bear said. She felt like throwing up. She did not want to do that in front of her shipmates. She looked at Yrsa and saw tears forming in the elf’s eyes. Thorsten, the big man who rowed behind her must have recognized the signs of distress. He hugged her with a soft word.

“You are one of us now.” He added a softer thought. “This is a terrible world we live in.” Kirstie did let out a few tears as Thorsten turned to the task at hand. They had three dead that needed to be buried. Captain Otto lost five. Kirstie had one shipmate who was so badly wounded he would probably not live the night. The enemy lost twelve and many were wounded. They did not fight well in their enchanted state. Fortunately, now that they were out from under the hag’s influence, they were more than willing to carry the dead into town where they could be properly buried.

Kirstie pulled herself together and called to Captain Otto. She grabbed Thorsten’s hand and one from the captain. “Don’t let go,” she insisted, but that was all she said as she went away, and Mother Greta came to take her place. Captain Otto let go, but at least he did not shriek. Thorsten surprisingly held on. In fact, he smiled and lifted his chain and leather to show the scar where he had been cut in the side.

“From the king’s house,” Thorsten said, and Greta returned the smile. She recognized her own work, but she did not dwell. She turned to Captain Otto and asked a question.

“How is your Latin?” She asked in Latin.

That question seemed to bring the man back to reality. He shook his head. “Not good.”

“Yrsa,” she called. “You will still have to translate.” Then she had a thought. “Mariwood.” he was right there. “You need to send a couple of your people to Rune and Frode in the guild hall or wherever they are. They may need help driving a good and fair bargain, so one of your people needs to be good at bargaining. We don’t want to beggar the people of Bremerhaven, but we want a fair return for the value of the goods we carry.”

“Right,” Mariwood said and reverted to fairy form. That got the shriek out of Captain Otto, and Greta could not help commenting.

“What? I still have blonde hair.” Greta knew Kirstie’s hair was more of a dirty blonde where hers was more platinum, almost white blonde, but still, it was not dark brown like Margueritte’s hair.

“But who are you?” Captain Otto asked. “You are older than the girl, and more…”

“More round?” Greta admitted. “I am Mother Greta, and the nearest you have to a healer in this place. Doctor Mishka is not authorized to come and help. Come. Let us see who we can help, even if my skills are seven hundred and fifty years out-of-date.” Greta already looked around and knew where she wanted to go first. Many of these men could be saved if they were careful to not let their wounds get infected. There was honestly nothing she could do about the worst.

“Valkyrie,” Captain Otto mumbled as he, Thorsten, and Yrsa followed Greta all afternoon.

************************

MONDAY

The ship still needs to return home which is difficult when they get stopped again in the delta. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 8 The Saxon Hag, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Yrsa proved her worth early on when they stopped in a port on Jutland to replenish their supplies. She could communicate with the Jutes and Danes in a way that sounded like a native. The crew understood most of what the Danes said, and could respond, but not exactly, and they sounded like foreigners. Yrsa got better cooperation from the village chiefs.

They had some rough weather along the Danish coast and needed to stop again near a village of Nordalbings by the delta of the Elbe River. They needed to repair their sail among a few other small things. The village men turned out on the second day, but Yrsa also spoke Old German like a native and convinced the villagers to leave them alone. They would be moving on and leave the village in peace.

By the time they reached the Frisian coast at the delta of the Weser, no one was really surprised that Yrsa was also fluent in the Frisian tongue. Frode even said that now he understood why Kirstie brought the girl. The Frisians blocked the ship with fishing boats. They were mostly fishermen and farmers with farm implements, not really soldiers prepared to fight, but they were a bit of an army.

Kirstie dressed herself in fairy weave and shaped it to imitate the blue dress she had seen on a rich woman in Danish lands. Yrsa only wore fairy weave and imitated Kirstie’s dress but insisted on hunter green. The men were good and did not whistle at all, even when they saw Yrsa in a dress. Kirstie leaned on the rail and spoke to Captain Stenson while the men lowered the longboat.

“Interesting,” Kristie mentioned to Captain Stenson. “By this date the people along the coasts assume any longship means trouble.” They raised a white flag and rowed the longboat out to the big fishing ship the Frisians indicated. Four men, the rowers, stayed in the longboat while Captain Stenson, Frode, Kirstie and Yrsa climbed to the deck. They found a dozen men decked out in more military garb, and one knight who spoke for all the locals. The knight and his soldiers looked surprised to see the women, though less surprised when Yrsa translated everything.

Kirstie and Captain Stenson discussed it, and the captain spoke appropriately. “I am Captain Rune Stenson, a simple trader. sailing my ship with trade goods headed for Bremen. We will sail up the Weser River, and after we have made whatever deals we can make, we will return this way to the sea. We have no intention of bothering you or your people. You can see the flag we fly” It showed an R, n, and crooked t over the picture of a stone. “That is me, Rune Stenson. Sten in our tongue is the word for stone. This way when you see my ship you can be assured that we come in peace.”

“And what do you have to trade?” The knight sounded skeptical.

“Grain, and bundles of furs and fine leather from the north. We are not rich men.”

“And I should trust you?”

Kirstie butted in front of Captain Stenson and interrupted, as was becoming her tendency. “Do you have a name, or do we call you Mister Person in Charge?”

“This is my land, given to me by the king to protect the land from your kind.” He stared at the girl before he softened and said, “I am Sir Waldo of Deventer.”

Kirstie smiled, stepped up to grab and shake the man’s hand before he could object. Later, she imagined she was channeling Lord Festuscato, Last Senator of Rome, a life she lived in the centuries between Greta and Margueritte. “I am Lady Kristina of Strindlos, and I would rather be your friend than your enemy. I mean, look at me. I mean you no harm. Besides…” she pointed generally toward the fishing boats. “You have a bunch of farmers and fishermen, not fighters. I am sure you would rather save them to bring in the fish and work in your fields. There is no reason we should fight.”

Sir Waldo stared at the girl and frowned, but just a little. “Bremen?” he asked and pointed toward the river. He might let them through to bother the Saxons if they promised to leave Frisia alone.

“Yes, sir,” Kirstie answered. “It is a big town that might be interested in our goods. But look. I am willing to make a pledge of friendship or maybe call it something for safe passage up the river. Let me give you this piece of amber. I found a couple of pieces right by my house and I thought surely the Lord was smiling on me.” Sir Waldo raised an eyebrow, and Kirstie said plainly. “I am a Christian.” She pulled out her little wooden cross.

He did not exactly believe her, but he saw no reason to waste his men fighting a merchant ship. He looked at the amber in his hand and spoke. “Lady Kristina of Strindlos.” he remembered. “You may pass, and I may even hope you do well in Bremen.”

Kirstie grinned. “Lady,” she said. “Back home they mostly just call me a girl, not a lady, except my companion Yrsa. She calls me Lady.”

Yrsa translated and added, “Yes I do.” She bowed to Kirstie and said, “Lady,” in both languages.

Sir Waldo smiled for the first time. “And a fine young woman, I am sure.”

Kirstie returned the smile and added a small curtsey, though it felt a bit awkward. “Thank you, Sir Waldo. The Word says kindness is a virtue, and sometimes we entertain angels unaware. I also hope we make some good trades.” She hustled Rune and Frode to the longboat and thought to wave as they rowed back to their own ship, as any young girl might.

Captain Stenson turned on her when they got out of earshot. “You need to let me bargain for my own ship.”

“Sorry,” Kirstie said. “I just thought getting out of a tight spot without bloodshed was good, and I thought an innocent young girl might get a better response than harsh words.”

“I am sure that is true,” Frode said, and Captain Stenson reluctantly nodded.

When they climbed back aboard the ship, Yrsa immediately changed her fairy weave back into leather-like slacks and a leather tunic over her plain shirt. She picked up her bow and arrows and sat on her bench without a word.

“So, young lady,” Captain Stenson began, ready to make some snappy remark but shut his mouth when Kirstie called and became clothed again in her armor, her sword and knife at her side, her long knife across the small of her back, and her battleaxe diagonally across her back, reaching up to her shoulder beneath her shield.

“I guess I’m not made for dresses,” Kirstie said.

Frode countered. “I think you and Yrsa are made for dresses just fine.”

Kirstie made a face at him and took off her weapons so she could sit and help row up the river.

Finding the Weser River was the easy part. Being able to get up the river to Bremen without drawing out a real army was a bit tricky. They passed more farms and a Frisian hamlet in the delta. They had to stop in Bremerhaven, the first German town when word got there before the ship arrived. They had the ship searched. Captain Otto, the head man in the dock wanted to confiscate the cargo as soon as he discovered what they carried. Yrsa had to translate for the men and related what Captain Otto said. Captain Stenson and Frode got ready to start a fight, but Kirstie, dressed in her dress, stepped between the men, and totally interrupted, again.

“You don’t want to do that,” Kirstie stood up to the man. “These goods are for trade and for sale. Are you making an offer to buy these things?” Yrsa translated into the Old German tongue.

Captain Otto frowned at what he considered to be a child. He looked at the anger on the faces of Rune and Frode, turned his head to look at the two dock workers beside him and the twenty soldiers he had on the dock, along with the many dock workers there who stopped whatever they were doing to watch. He decided to speak to the child and explained in his most condescending manner. “There are taxes and docking fees that need to be paid, and since you have no coin of the realm, we will take and sell your goods. After the taxes, fees, and all have been paid, we will give you what is left.” He smiled for the girl, looking like the drunk uncle at the Christmas table that no one wanted to hear from, until the girl asked him an unexpected question.

“Are you a Christian?” The man paused and looked confused before he nodded. “And does the Lord condone stealing?”

“It is hardly stealing from pagan unbelievers.”

“It is stealing, but in any case, I am also a Christian, and you would be stealing from me.” Kirstie pulled her wooden cross out from beneath her shirt. “Thou shalt not steal is one of the ten commandments.”

One of the dock workers whispered to his captain, “She is right.” Yrsa heard and translated the words out loud. Kirstie continued.

“Rune and Frode. You need to go into town and find the guild masters that might be interested in our wares. At least the jewelers, the bakers, and the candlestick makers for the beeswax, and maybe the smiths and the tailors for the hides. Ivory is good for the pommel of a sword. See what they offer, and if it is not a king’s ransom, tell them we will go down to Bremen. I am sure we will get a good price there.”

“The guild masters?” Captain Stenson asked.

“Of course,” Kirstie answered. “Who have you been selling to?”

“Whoever was in…”

“…never mind,” Captain Stenson said. “Come on.”